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Chapter 301
Author: Youngblood
last update2025-12-28 17:20:12

Chloe waited in the private study, the one with the soundproofing and the view of the city’s jagged skyline. She’d sent a single, coded text to Chance’s personal phone: “Let’s meet in the garden.”

Five minutes later, the door opened and closed with a soft, definitive click. Chance stood there, still buzzing with the kinetic energy of the hunt. “Chloe? What is it? I’ve got the team finalizing—”

“It’s Wilfreda,” Chloe said, cutting him off. Her voice was low, steady, but her eyes were wide with the urgency of her discovery.

Chance’s brow furrowed, impatience flickering. “I know. She’s safe. Resting. We’ll debrief her fully once she’s stronger.”

“No, Chance. You don’t understand.” Chloe took a step closer, forcing him to focus solely on her. “I went to see her. I heard her… on a phone. She was talking to someone.”

The impatience vanished, replaced by a focused stillness. “What did she say?”

Chloe took a breath, delivering the words like precise, poisoned darts. “She said, ‘Getting the ri
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  • Chapter 328

    Flynn looked younger than his years, his eyes darting between the two people seated across from him. Ava Rennet and Gerald Seth.They had scheduled this meeting just so they could prepare him for the cross examination later that day during the Julia's case regarding the death of Bruce Lincoln.Ava, having worked with Sandy before knew what to expect, and felt like preparing Flynn for it so that his testimony won't be watered down at the end of the day.“Sandy Thorne is going to come at you hard,” Ava said, her voice low but piercing. “She’s going to imply you were paid, that your memory is faulty, that you have a grudge. Your only job is to be a brick wall. Answer the question asked, nothing more. ‘Yes.’ ‘No.’ ‘I don’t recall.’ Do not volunteer, do not explain, do not get drawn into a debate. Understood?”Flynn swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Understood. Just the facts.”“Smart,” Gerald rumbled, giving a single, approving nod. He took a sip of water, his eyes never leaving Flynn

  • Chapter 327

    Chance took a deep breath, the scent of Chloe's hair calming the last of his reactive anger. The confrontation ahead was still a mountain to climb, but Chloe had cleared away some of the lesser debris at its base. "Come on," he said, his voice quieter. "Let's go find my mother. And then... we'll figure out the rest."Hand in hand, they turned from the foyer and headed deeper into the house, toward the private family wing. They found the sitting room outside Julia's private suite empty, a single lamp casting a soft pool of light on an untouched book. A maid, passing quietly in the hall, informed them that Mrs. O'Connor had retired early with a migraine.The news was a reprieve Chance hadn't realized he needed. The immediate pressure valve released, leaving in its wake a vast, hollow exhaustion and the sudden, acute awareness of the woman beside him.He turned to Chloe, the plans of the evening crumbling. "She's asleep," he said, his voice flat.Chloe nodded, her own weariness evident

  • Chapter 326

    “I have to,” Chance heard himself say, the words hollow. “I can't find out something like this, and keep it to myself."He finally glanced at Chloe. Her face was pale in the dashboard glow, her expression a complex map of worry, sympathy, and a fierce, unwavering support. She wasn’t shrinking from this. She was buckling in beside him for the fallout."I have to tell her," Chance repeated, more to himself than to Chloe, as he navigated the long, winding driveway. The hollow feeling had been replaced by a cold, solid determination. Chloe reached across the console, her hand finding his where it rested on the gear shift. She didn't try to offer empty reassurance or logic. She simply laced her fingers through his, a silent anchor in the storm. Her touch was warm and steadying."Everything will be fine," she said softly. Not a prediction, but a promise of presence. I am here. You are not alone.Chance looked at their joined hands, then at her. He offered her a small, short-lived smile—a f

  • Chapter 325

    Gary moved past Courtney into the living room, not sitting, but standing rigidly in the center of the space as if he didn't know how to contain the energy of what he’d learned. He ran a hand over his close-cropped hair, a gesture of profound agitation.“It went,” he said, his voice low and gravelly. “It… happened. Chance knows everything. About his grandfather's true will. About the relics not being a treasure map, but a… a weapons inventory. Counter-measures, designed to be deployed against the very forces Alfred spent his life assembling, if they ever went rogue. Which they have.”He finally looked at her, his eyes haunted. “And he knows about Steven now.”Courtney caught her breath. “How did he take it?”A humorless, exhausted sound escaped Gary. “How do you think? First, he didn’t believe it..” His gaze was distant, replaying the scene. “He asked one question: ‘Where is he?’ How long have I known about everything and the likes.""And..." Courtney gestured."Of course Fredrick was

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    Courtney returned alone later that evening. Gary had texted: "Going to be late. Critical meeting with Chance. Don't wait up." The message was terse, typical of him when things were volatile, but it left her feeling unmoored in the quiet space.She dropped her bag by the door with a soft thud, the day's accumulated grit and mental fatigue clinging to her. All she wanted was the scalding spray of a shower to wash away the dust of the secret facility and the chill of shared confessions.It was only after, wrapped in a soft robe with her damp hair piled in a towel, that she finally checked her personal phone, which had been silenced for hours.A notification glowed on the screen: 1 New Voicemail.Frowning, she tapped it and put the phone to her ear. The connection was poor, layered with static and the faint echo of a vast distance."Court? It's... it's me. It's Margaret." The voice was her sister's, but thinner, strained. A tremor ran through it that had nothing to do with the bad line. "

  • Chapter 323

    The damp, cold air of the warehouse seemed to crystallize around Adams Smith's words. He unclasped his worn leather satchel with deliberate care, as if handling sacred texts."The animosity between your uncles and your father was not merely sibling rivalry, Chance," Smith began, his voice a dry, precise instrument. "It was a war of legitimacy. A war your grandfather foresaw."He withdrew a sheaf of yellowed papers, their edges crisp."This is a copy of Alfred O'Connor's last will and testament. The true one, never filed with any court." He handed the top page to Chance. "It names Steven O'Connor as the sole inheritor of the O'Connor empire—its wealth, its holdings, and its most sacred trust. Robert and Richard were to be provided for, but they were never to hold the reins. Alfred knew their character."Chance scanned the document, his eyes catching on his father's name, on the formal, unforgiving language of disinheritance. The legal bedrock of his uncles' lifelong grievance."Alfred

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